Lost In Lies (22 page)

              “Pass,” I stick my tongue out as Peter walks through the front door, cup in hand.

              Looking nervous, his eyes scan the room before he asks, “Everything OK?”

              “Yeah,” Belle walks over to him, lifts herself up onto her tiptoes, causing her short, pink leather skirt to look even shorter, and places a kiss on his cheek. “Relax, Peter. We’re going to make it out of this on top.” He nods, and she strokes his cheek as her wings flutter. For a moment, I could almost mistake them for having the same moment Justin and I had earlier.

              “Working hard or hardly working?” Peter’s jerk demeanor returns as he struts over to Justin, who has a few photographs of old maps laid out.

              “I could ask you the same thing,” Justin’s response causes Peter to smirk as he continues the lines on the map.

              Checking the time on my cell phone, I smile, “It’s show time.”

              “Good luck,” Belle hums out, giving me a wave.

              “She needs it,” Peter mumbles, looking up as he slides yet another lollipop into his mouth.

              With a nod, I agree with Peter on this one, but put my head up high, and stroll out of the apartment headed straight for Nick’s fencing match, which I promised to attend today.

              A few minutes later, I’m exiting a taxi outside of a very large building where the tournament is. With a smile, I approach the door where I am asked for my name or a ticket.

              “Peyton,” I adjust my larger-than-normal-size purse, while I case the place for familiar faces. The door buzzer is hit, and I’m allowed to enter along with a few select others.

              As I stroll to my seat, I look for anyone who sticks out; however, I get distracted by the signs with Nick’s name plastered everywhere, the crowd excited to see him compete. Proud, I walk down the stairs to what has to be the best seats in the whole place. To no surprise, it’s marked reserved and next to Dubs, who is sitting one seat away from Arnett, the Lion’s Den.

              “Peyton,” Dubs greets me warmly.

              “Peyton,” Arnett grumbles as he folds his hands and leans back as if hoping I wasn’t invited.

              “Boys,” I greet them politely in return and settle between them with my purse between my feet and my phone in my pocket. Looking around at the guys moving around, I ask, “Where’s Nick?”

              “Here,” he leans over my shoulder, his hot breath on my ear, his soft word striking my heart. I turn around to greet him when his lips fall on mine, and he pushes my hair behind my ear. After a brief moment, he pulls away, “I missed you. I’m glad you could make it.”

              “Wouldn’t miss it for the world,” the words may be cheap but seem like a perfect fit.

              “Good,” he nods, my eyes glancing over his pale gray suit.

              “Ready for an easy victory?” He chuckles at my cheerleading.

              “We may pass violets looking for roses. We may pass contentment looking for victory,” the quote rumbles off his tongue. “But as far as I’m concerned, I’m content you’re here, and that’s all that matters.”

              My lips press together before I see someone stroll behind him, giving me a cue that everything’s ready. I make eye contact back with Nick, touch his cheek, and smile, “I still hope you win.”

              “Thanks,” he places another kiss, this time on my cheek. “Have to go.”

              After a wave good-bye, I turn to Dubs and ask, “Which way is the ladies room?”

              “Down the hall, take a left, and you’ll see the sign,” he informs me.

              I excuse myself from them and do just that, making a direct path to the ladies room. Once inside, I lean against the sink and wait for the few women to leave before locking the door behind them. My foot taps the tile, and Justin swings open the widest stall, suited up in gear similar to Nick’s.

              “Really? What happened to just watching?”

              “Opened spot,” he shrugs. “Besides, this is a better cover. Without me there to fight with you, it makes you more vulnerable to be stolen from.”

              “Clever,” I admire his getup.

              Adjusting Justin’s collar, I stroke his soft, freshly shaven face. He sighs, “You know I’m going to win, don’t you?”

              I lick my lips and lean my forehead against his, “You already have.”

              With a crooked grin, Justin flashes the folded map in front of me, “The sweetest victory will never be a win at a match or sword fight.” I take the map out of his hand, and he whispers, “But true love.”

              Justin winks and prepares to walk away when I grab his arm and plant a deep kiss on his lips. Pulling away reluctantly, he leaves the bathroom. I turn around, pull my hair to one side, and adjust my tight, clinging shirt, exposing more of myself to keep Dubs’s attention there rather than on my behaviors.

              I return to my seat and settle in, preparing to watch. The fencing tournament begins with little input from either competitor. Everything is going according to plan from the way Dubs’s face stays buried in his phone, texting Belle endlessly, keeping his attention right where we need it. Arnett, on the other hand, keeps me on his radar out of the corner of his eye.

              I raise my eyebrows, “Something wrong?”

              Arnett rubs his hands together, watching the back of Nick’s head, “Why do you ask?”

              “Seem tense,” I twirl a strand around my index finger. “Something bothering you?”

              He strokes his chin and leans over at me, “I’ve been thinking about Sous Clef.”

              “Nothing better to think about?” The Peter-like response slides out of my mouth before I can think it all the way through.

              Arnett nods, “Sous Clef relates directly to the business I’m in.”

              “Taking care of Nick?”

              “Is only part of my duty,” his attention shifts forward. Following his move, I keep my eyes on the match, “Sous Clef was replaced with a world-class forgery.”             

              “So I hear.”

              “And you are great at spotting forgeries.”

              “How do you know?”             

              “So I hear,” I turn, catching myself and trying to look nonchalant. Arnett smirks, “An old saying says those who can spot a forgery can often create a one.”

              “I’ve heard the same.”

              “Is it true?”

              “Are accusing me of something, Arnett?”

              “Where’d you say you were from again?”

              “I didn’t.” My lips press together before I answer, “Shoreline.”

              “Don’t look like the average Shoreline girl,” Arnett points at me. “They usually have deep tans and lighter hair, especially since they spend most of the time outside by the beach. After all, it’s in the name, Shoreline.”

              “I’m not average,” I correct him, turning my face forward once more to see Justin in the next round.

              “That you are not,” Arnett says, folding his hands and placing them in his lap.

              “Is that a crime?”

              “It is if you stole something that doesn’t belong to you.”

              “I did,” I put in a jab of my own, “Nick’s heart.”

              Arnett growls under his breath as Justin avoids a thrust aimed for his chest. Instead, he counters and lands a point much like I expected him to. He twirls the foil around in a taunting fashion. The round starts again. This time, I look over to see Dubs grinning at a flirty text from Belle.

              After checking his phone, Arnett cocks a grin, “When’s your father coming to meet you in town?”

              “Soon.” Remembering how uncool I played it when I almost let it slip I am really a Darling, I exert all my inner strength not to give into his attempted trickery. “We just talked this morning.” I watch Justin score again, and he wins the match flawlessly.

              “Well, I can’t wait to meet him.” Knowing Arnett is trying to rattle me, I nod. He offers, “We should all go out to breakfast when he comes in.”             

              “Look, Nick’s up,” my head nods toward Nick as he pulls down his mask.

              We watch the rest of the tournament in near silence, with a few passing words about Nick’s performance. I watch the arena, looking for something that’s not as it should be. Before I know it, I see Lola in the seats across from the arena facing me. She’s dressed in a red pencil skirt, black top, oversized sunglasses, and a black hat. Assessing the situation, I notice Alex has a seat beside her, looking more and more like a discount Peter. Uncomfortable, since we hadn’t predicted his arrival, I adjust myself in my seat while Lola gives me a wave from across the way. She wraps her arms around Alex’s and pretends to snuggle while discussing some sort of plan.

              My eyes look down at Justin, who rubs his nose, giving me the signal that it’s time. I make eye contact with Lola once more and reach for my purse between my feet.

              “If you’ll excuse me, I have to hit the ladies room,” I escort myself past Dubs, who nods, and Arnett, who stares suspiciously for a moment. Catching on, I whisper, “It’s a woman thing.” Quickly, he gives a wave of understanding, proving that it doesn’t matter how old a guy gets, feminine time is a subject to be avoided at all costs.

              Walking up the stairs, I glance back at Lola, who seems to moving in unison with me, then back at Arnett, who looks slightly suspicious, as usual. I disappear into the hallway, which leaks into the foyer, where two security guards are patrolling. I give them a wave just before Dark Watchers plop down behind each, inserting needles into their necks and instantly knocking them out. A heavy dropping sound bounces back down the hallway.

              Pretending to be terrified, I take off down the hall only to run right into Lola. Sometimes her actions are more predictable than I ever thought they could be.

              “You look like Satan’s mistress,” I compliment her attire, clutching my purse tighter.

              She adjusts her skirt and smiles as if she saw Satan himself. A deep voice behind me says, “Mistress is probably the wrong word.”

              I gasp, and before I can react, Alex wraps one arm around my stomach, the other around my throat, capturing me much like he did the first time we met. His face nuzzles mine as he coos, “Miss me?”

              My body twitches, and he seems to be pleased with his position, much like always. Uncomfortable, I thrust my body back, head butting him, causing him to release me. I do my best to take off past Lola, knowing I won’t get far. She lets me make it past her before using her black belt, wrapping it around my arm and yanking me backward. Landing on my back, I hit my head with a massive crack before Lola puts her heel on throat like she did in the bathroom, except this time, I grab her ankle and flip her over. Her body bangs against the ground with a large thud. The two of us start scrambling around on the floor, rolling around, each giving as good as we got. Hair pulls are coming from her left and right, which inspire me to do something I never thought I would in a fight, bite.

              I sink my teeth in the arm that’s trying to choke me, and she flips herself off. Scooting away from me, panting as hard as I am, she starts to chuckle, rubbing the spot on her arm.

              “You lose,” she whispers.

              “Really?” I breathe rapidly, still staring at her intensely. “How do you figure?”

              “Missing something?” The question is my clue to look around for my purse. Panicked, I look around to see Alex against the wall, waving the folded fake map at me. My jaw hits the ground as Lola rises to her feet, dusts the wrinkles out of her skirt, wipes the small swath of blood from her cheek, and shakes her head, “Until we meet again.”

              Alex winks at me and sighs, “You still have a lot to learn.”

              I watch the two of them leave the building, two Dark Watchers behind them like bodyguards. I grab my purse off the ground and appear as if I’m about to cry before jogging to the bathroom. Once there, I check the stalls, making sure I’m alone before checking my disheveled appearance. Pleased that everything is going according to plan, I readjust my makeup, fix my hair, and send Justin a text with the code word that everything is in motion.

              I return to my seat just as Nick takes the arena, one match away from the finals. I sit down beside Arnett, who looks at the empty seats where Lola and Alex were sitting.

              “You all right?”

              Sitting down, I nod and place my purse back between my feet, “I’m fine. Had a phone call.”

              Nick wins a flawless victory and lifts his mask up. He points his foil at me and blows me a kiss as if dedicating his win to me. A wide smile comes to my face as I blow a kiss back before the board lights up to show it’ll be Nick versus Justin, a match made in heaven or hell depending on which side of the equation you are sitting on.